


Making Memories

by ermynee322



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4703243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ermynee322/pseuds/ermynee322
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years ago, Hermione removed herself from Ron's memory. Now, the spell is broken and Ron is bloody hacked off about it. But could Hermione have good reasons for what she did, reasons that might mean the difference between life and death?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The weather had been horrible all day, and the boots of Captain General Harry Potter left a trail of wet footprints as he walked quickly down the marble corridor. The dark interior of the Ministry of Magic had changed little since the end of the Great Battle three years earlier, though most of the staff inside the building were indeed new. The wizarding world was a different place now, more hopeful and open minded since the end of Tom Riddle's reign of terror. But that didn't mean there wasn't still evil to be fought.

Harry had spent the last three years training, working, fighting and tracking down every last known death eater that had plagued the magical communities of Britain and beyond. He'd been promoted early and often in his career and currently led one of the most skilled auror teams the defense department had ever known. They'd been set to go out on one of their most dangerous missions yet, but there was a problem. There was always a problem.

"You want to tell me the meaning of this?" Harry stormed into the small holding room, where a lone figure sat in a chair front and center. His ginger hair matched the shade of red his face was quickly becoming. He was a few inches taller than he had been during his last years at Hogwarts and had grown wider and leaner throughout his chest and arms. But it was the same temper underneath.

"Give me a break," General Ron Weasley shouted back, shooting his boss and best mate a rude gesture. "You think I have any bloody idea what's going on here?"

Harry looked down at the sheaf of papers handed to him earlier that day by his boss, Auror Department Head Theodore Trottle. The papers were meant to explain why Ron had been barred from this particular mission, but Harry couldn't make any sense of it. Scanning the notes, he read something about failure to pass mental inspection.

"Mental?" Harry said quietly to himself.

"Is that what they said?" Ron shouted, throwing his hands over his head in exasperation. "Mental my arse. You should have got a look at the git they had administering this test. He kept going on about 'Look into the light son' and 'Hop around on one foot and touch your nose.' I think they need to get him checked out next, if you ask me."

Harry gave his friend a bemused grin. In the ten years the two had known each other, Ron had never failed to pinpoint the ridiculous in a situation.

"Hello boys," said a loud voice from behind Harry. Both men turned to see Mr. Theodore Trottle walk into the room, closing the door behind him. He carried a hefty stack of papers and conjured up a chair to sit in front of Ron in the center of the room. Harry leaned casually against the wall, curious to learn what Trottle had discovered.

"It seems we have a bit of a problem here, eh Ron?" Ron nodded in response, keeping his mouth shut lest he blow up again in front of his department head.

"They say he's not fit for his mission," Harry said. "Which is frankly unacceptable. As you know Mr. Trottle, this next job is equally important and dangerous, and I need Ron out there on this."

"I agree Potter. And no one's saying Ron's not fit. We all know the two of you are the best pair we have on the job."

Harry nodded, feeling no need to balk at the compliment. Both he and Ron had earned their reputation, not least of all because of their work destroying the seven horcruxes that led to the fall of Tom Riddle. To this day, the wizarding world was still writing books and engaging in debates on the efforts of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, asking the same question over and over: How did two boys, all by themselves, finally manage to kill Voldemort?

"We've found a blockage somewhere in the cerebrum of Ron's mind," Mr. Trottle continued. "It's an unnatural block, something that could have only been done by magic."

"You mean someone's messed with my brain?"

"That explains some things," Harry joked quietly. Ron scowled at him.

"Precisely," Mr. Trottle said. "It's contained in the memory center, but it's not like any memory charm I've ever seen. It's some complicated wand work."

Ron looked deep in thought, as Harry tried to puzzle out what this could mean for his friend.

"What will we do?"

"Well, we'll keep Ron here for a few days until we can break the enchantment, then I think everything should be fine."

"Right," Ron said. "Then I'll remember whatever it is I've been made to forget?"

"Exactly."

Harry continued to peruse the idea. It didn't sit right with him. Who would go after Ron's memory, and what could they have possibly altered? And why?

"Mr. Trottle," Harry said slowly, "whoever's messed with his memory, how would we go about finding and punishing them?"

A brief frown passed over Trottle's face as he considered it.

"I'm not certain Potter," he said finally. "Whoever did this, they went to a lot of trouble to cover something up. I've not seen magic this intricate in some time. It took a person of incredible intelligence to do it."

…..................................................................................................................................................................................................

The tea kettle whistled from the small kitchen and the young woman moved briskly to the stove. Walking with the kettle over to the cupboard to retrieve a cup, she passed her open window and took a moment to admire the view of the green hills and rocky cliffs outside. The scenery in Cornwall was beautiful, and she was once again pleased she had chosen the tiny village of Tintagel to settle down in.

She walked into the sitting room of her small cottage, scanning for a book to read. The walls were crammed with books on shelves and she would sometimes read several a day. Her job at the town library kept her well stocked with reading options, a good thing as she had little else to entertain her. Certainly none of the electronics like televisions or DVD players that were common in the other muggle homes in her village. Not that she had many neighbors. Her little home was tucked well out of the way of the town's high street, and she liked it that way.

She settled in on the sofa with a book she knew well and read often. Skimming her fingers over the title, "Hogwarts: A History," she felt her breath hitch for just a second before she regained her composure. While reading this particular title was sometimes difficult, she liked keeping just one reminder of the wizarding world nearby; she had no other keepsakes to remind her that she had once belonged to a great, magical world. No flying owls delivered post to her door, no dishes cleaned themselves in the kitchen. In fact, she didn't even own a wand anymore. It had been three long years since Hermione Granger had uttered a spell, the most difficult spell she had ever had to cast.


	2. Chapter 2

"How much longer, do you think?" Ginny Weasley gripped the edge of her paper tea cup, not bringing herself to actually drink the Ministry's disgusting brew. She was worried about Ron, his procedure seemed to be taking longer than necessary, and she looked to her fiancé for some comfort.

"I'm not sure, Gin," Harry replied, reaching to take one of her hands in his own. He played with the small diamond on her left ring finger and smiled. "I'm sure he'll be out soon."

It had been a trying four days. The entire Weasley clan had taken shifts sitting with Ron, who was forced to stay on site during the research into breaking down his block. He was plenty safe there on his own, but after losing one Weasley son three years ago the whole family had become a lot more cautious. No one wanted to let Ron out of their sight.

Mum and Dad had been there most of the time, of course, and George would stop in whenever he wasn't at the shop. Percy had popped in once or twice and even Bill and Fleur had apparated in a few times from Shell Cottage. Charlie was out of the country, but Ginny was making up for it by being there almost constantly, even though she was supposed to be in training for the Harpies. And then, of course, there was Lavender.

Ron and Lavender had been going out for almost five years already. They'd broken things off for a while when Ron was with Harry on the horcrux hunt, but they'd picked up again not too long after. Lavender was a constant presence in the Weasley household, though not an all together welcome one. It was a bit like when Bill started bringing Fleur around, except that nobody had warmed to Lavender's…ways. Even Mum, who was usually the first to encourage her sons down the altar, had yet to utter one word about Ron needing to settle down already.

"Ginny, I brought you more tea."

Ginny looked up to see Lavender standing before her, all blond hair and smiles, holding out another cup of disgusting tea.

"Erm, thanks." Ginny took the cup and placed the old one on the floor under her chair in the waiting room.

"Is he out yet?" Lavender asked, a worry line across her forehead. The poor girl looked genuinely frightened. Maybe I should go easier on her, Ginny thought to herself.

"I'm just so worried about my Won-Won!"

Maybe not.

"By my calculations, they should be finishing up," Harry said from next to Ginny. He looked at his watch and sighed. "Any minute now, Ron will have back whatever this lost memory is."

Ginny frowned. She'd been going over and over it for days, trying to figure out what piece of information might have been taken from Ron. Was it dangerous? Was it something that should be kept hidden? Ginny internally scolded herself. Of course it shouldn't be kept hidden. Whatever it was, Ron had a right to know. No one deserved to have their mind tampered with, no matter how painful the memory. She knew that much firsthand.

Suddenly, Ginny felt like she was in a fog. Her vision blurred and she began blinking rapidly, the images in front of her swaying as if under water. She was having trouble remembering what she had just been thinking, couldn't quite figure out where she was or what she was supposed to be doing. Ginny looked to Harry, who seemed to be in the same state, blinking just as quickly and reaching out in front of him. The two clasped hands and Harry raised his free palm to his forehead, as he had done so many times during his youth. Then, almost as soon as the feeling had come, it passed and the fog was lifted.

The tea cup dropped from Ginny's hand onto the floor.

"Oh!" She gasped, a hand flying up to cover her mouth. She turned to Harry, who sat stunned, looking like he'd been hit with a bludger.

Harry stared back at Ginny, an expression of pure panic on his face, and said one word: "Hermione."

The pair jumped up from their seats, rushing from the waiting room down an empty corridor. Lavender followed behind, sputtering awkwardly.

"Oh my gosh you guys…did you feel that…Hermione…oh my goodness…I haven't thought of her in years."

Lavender trailed off as Harry pushed open the door leading to the room Ron was being treated in. He stopped short at the entrance of the room. There, balled up in one corner on the floor, sat his best mate, sobbing like he hadn't seen anyone sob in years. Ginny pulled up behind Harry and upon seeing Ron, turned to usher Lavender out of the room. Harry barked for the attendants to clear out then shut the door as soon as he and Ron were alone.

Ron was in a heap, folded in on himself as if in physical pain. The truth wasn't far off. Harry was reminded of a time Ron looked similar, sprawled by a lake in the Forest of Dean, both of them soaking wet and a destroyed horcrux sitting between them.

"Oh God," wailed a miserable Ron, clutching at his head and rocking back and forth. Harry walked over to him and crouched down on the floor, placing a tentative hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron jumped as if surprised there was someone else in the room. He raised his face up from his knees and met Harry's steady gaze. Ron's eyes were red and glassy, and behind them Harry could read hurt, anger and confusion.

"Harry?" Ron asked in a broken sob. Harry nodded back at his friend. "Why?"

Harry racked his brain, trying to make sense out of the flood of information assaulting him. Hermione, of course he knew Hermione. But he had somehow forgotten her. It was like she'd been erased for the past…what…three years? How was that possible? Hermione had been a part of everything, every train ride to Hogwarts, every meal, every study session where she nagged him to do his homework. Harry choked back a sob himself, the emotion of it washing over him. Hermione had helped him and Ron destroy Tom Riddle, they would both be dead if not for her. How could the world not know that?

"I don't know Ron," Harry finally answered. "But I'll find out who did this."

"Hermione," Ron moaned, cradling his head in his hand again.

"I know," Harry said. "We'll find out what happened to her, I promise. We'll catch whoever did this."

"No," Ron said, shaking his head and taking in gulps of air, as if speaking were costing him something as dear as oxygen. "It was Hermione…Hermione did this to me."


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione's hands fumbled with the dishes in the sink, as a clap of thunder caused her once again to drop the plate she was washing. The plate sank into the soapy water she'd filled the basin with, landing at the bottom of the sink with a clank.

"Get a hold of yourself," she said quietly. She wasn't used to being in the cottage by herself for this many days in a row. That, paired with the weather outside, was making her nervous.

She finished the washing up and went into her bedroom to pull out a sweater. The rain had sent a chill through the house and Hermione instinctively reached for her favorite jumper, maroon and hand-knit. She rubbed the faded R emblazoned at the front, now almost too worn out to be read. Burying her face into the wool she inhaled deeply and was reminded of amortentia.

Thinking better of it, Hermione hung the jumper back in her closet. It wouldn't do to give in to memories. Instead, she pulled out a warm gray cardigan and pulled it over her night dress, running her hands up her arms to generate some heat.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Hermione wasn't expecting visitors. Rarely did a neighbor stop by for a chat, and never at this hour or with this sort of rain storm going on outside. She walked timidly down the hallway separating her bedroom from the front door. As she stood ten feet away from the door, pondering what to do, there was a second knock. This one was more insistent, the sound reverberating through the house so that the walls shook with the effort.

"Wh-who is it?" Hermione called out. It was times like this she cursed herself for having given up her wand. Perhaps she should have kept it, hidden in a drawer somewhere, just in case.

There was a long pause and no answer. Emboldened and putting on more bravado than she had, Hermione spoke up once more.

"You should know I've called the police and they're on their way. So you should just leave, whoever you are."

There were a few more seconds of silence, before a deep male voice responded.

"Hermione, it's me."

She froze, the words hitting her like cold water. Even with three years' time between them and the clamor of rain and thunder outside, Hermione would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Harry?" His name was a question, not a statement, and was filled with disbelief. It sounded like Harry, but that was impossible. Harry didn't know she existed, let alone where to find her. Hermione's fingers itched to pull the door open and see for herself, see what he looked like, how he had grown, if his eyes were the same. She took a few breaths to clear her head. She couldn't be rash here. Either this was Harry or someone impersonating Harry, and either way she was dealing with a situation from the magical world. That meant this could be dangerous.

"Where did we spend summer before fourth year?"

"At the burrow," Harry replied. Hermione pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling. It was sort of an obvious answer, everyone who knew Harry knew he spent every summer at the burrow. Hermione heard what sounded like whispers from behind the door, almost as if Harry were talking to someone. Then Harry spoke again, louder this time.

"And we went to the Quidditch World Cup," he said. "It's really me Hermione. You'd better open up." He said the last bit not like a command, more like a defeated plea. Hermione suddenly felt cold dread for what was waiting for her behind that door.

She reached a tentative hand forward, turned the knob, and opened the door.

In all her life she would never forget his face. He stood stock still, wearing a heavy black coat. His clothes and hair were matted down with rain, and he looked like he hadn't shaved in days. When did his facial hair start growing so fast, she wondered. Then she looked in his green eyes, covered with the same round glasses, and he gave her a small smile. It looked almost as if he were glad to see her, and Hermione was suddenly consumed with the need to hug him.

She took a step forward but was interrupted as a bulking figure pushed in between her and Harry, walking across the threshold and into the hallway of her home. She turned to protest at the figure, then saw the unmistakable color of Weasley red hair.

The shock of him left her powerless to speech or rational thought. She closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to focus and stay on task. Standing in her hallway was Ron. He was the person she dreamed about every night, he was the person whose name was like a prayer to her. He was also the last person on Earth she ever wanted to see again. Hermione took a deep breath that ended in a gulp. When she opened her eyes and saw him still standing there, glaring at her, she knew that her hardest work was still before her.

"Why don't you both come in?" She swept her arms to indicate they should all walk into the living room. Ron started first, walking into the room and placing himself unceremoniously onto the sofa, a puddle forming at his feet. Harry walked in next, taking a careful seat next to his friend. Hermione hovered awkwardly in the space between the entryway and the two boys. No, men.

"Would you like some tea? I'll get some." Hermione rushed off to the kitchen, speaking to herself as she made quick work of readying a tea tray.

"Be calm, Hermione, you know why you're doing this. Just keep the story simple, catch up, and they'll be on their way." She paused to wait for the tea kettle to heat up, tapping one finger on the counter. Not that she was anxious to return to the living room, but the sooner this business got started, the sooner it would be over.

Hermione walked back to the living room holding a tray filled with a kettle, tea cups, milk, sugar and biscuits. She lowered the tray onto the coffee table and took a seat in an arm chair next to the sofa. Hermione took a moment then to look Ron over head to toe. He looked older, obviously, but in a way that didn't just come from aging. His eyes were darker, heavier, and his hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, even in fourth year. His skin was still pale and freckled, but his arms were bulkier and his shoulders wider. It looked like he had gotten taller, too, if that was possible. And he was oozing rage, the anger rolling off of him in waves.

"Here, have some," Hermione said finally. She reached out and prepared a cup for Harry, dropping one sugar cube in and handing it to him. She then picked up a second cup and filled it half way with tea, half way with milk, and dropped two sugar cubes in. Just the way Ron liked it. She placed the cup on a saucer and held it out to Ron. The china cup clinked against the saucer, and Hermione begged her hands to cooperate and stop shaking. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding as Ron finally took the cup from her.

"So, how have you two been?"

Hermione's question was halted by a crashing sound, as Ron threw his tea cup across the room. It shattered as it hit the wall across from Ron, the pieces of china hitting the floor and the tea making a dark stain against the wallpaper.

"M'not thirsty," Ron nearly growled at her.

Hermione winced at the sound of the breaking cup, her arms flying up in front of her as if to protect against some curse.

"Let's all calm down here," Harry said, placing his arms out to keep the two others apart. Hermione had jumped out of her seat and stood in front of the coffee table, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"I don't know what she's got to be hacked of about," Ron said, speaking to Harry but drilling Hermione with his eyes.

"Well," Harry said in a controlled voice, "you have shown up at her home in the middle of the night and begun breaking her things."

"I'll break as many damned things as I like!" Ron shouted, his voice several decibels louder than before. "I'll break anything I like, and then put it back together with this." Ron pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it menacingly at Hermione.

"You know what this is, don't you?" Ron continued. "It's a wand. Perfect for fixing things like broken cups. What it's not usually used for, though, is turning your best friends into guinea pigs for your latest magic experiment!"

Hermione stood frozen in front of him, not sure if she was supposed to respond here. She had backed up so far that she was now flush against the wall with the new tea stain, the dampness of it seeping through her cardigan. It was the first time in her life she had ever been truly afraid of Ron Weasley.

"Don't look at me like that!" he roared. "Get out your wand!"

Hermione shook her head helplessly, trying to form words but unable to speak. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

"What's that?" Ron asked sarcastically. "Miss Know It All's run out of words, has she? Get out your wand and fight me!"

"Easy, easy mate," Harry said suddenly. He positioned himself in front of Hermione, his wand drawn but not raised, ready to shield off any hexes Ron might start throwing.

"I…I don't have a wand," Hermione said finally. "I got rid of it. After." With that, Hermione ran to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. She turned the faucet on the sink to generate some noise, crouched over the toilet, and retched.


	4. Chapter 4

Ron woke with a headache. A slash of sunlight fell across his face, though he didn't know the source of the brightness. Opening his eyes, he realized he was in an unfamiliar place. The drawn curtains of a window hung above him and he lay on a strange couch. Fully alert now, he hopped to his feet, wand in hand.

"Hermione's place," Harry grumbled from a spot on the floor. "We're at Hermione's place."

Ron's shoulders relaxed for a second, then instantly tensed up again. I'm at Hermione's place. The implication of what that meant was too complex to fathom. Three days ago, he didn't know there was a Hermione. Now he was crashing on her couch.

'God,' he thought, 'I didn't know there was a Hermione.'

It was routine for aurors to get looked at before a mission, but it usually consisted of just a physical check. This mission he and Harry had been working toward was special. He didn't know the particulars yet, only Harry had been fully briefed, but it had to do with a prophecy. Ron's only previous experience with the prophecy business had been that awful night in the department of mysteries, so he knew it was serious. The prep work had included a full body and mental check. Which was when he discovered there was something wrong with him.

When he had been assigned to the recovery room for magical removal, he had gone over the various possibilities of what the attendants might find. He thought an ex death eater may have been responsible. He'd had some close run ins with Shraxen and Willigsbee about a year ago, and had spent his fair share of time at St. Mungo's. There was even one time the healers didn't think he would pull through. He'd give anything never to see his mother in that state of despair again.

But none of the spells or injuries or death eaters had prepared him for what the attendants discovered. No evil mastermind had cursed him, Hermione had. Hermione. The girl who had been his best friend, and then his…something else. He had fought beside her and very nearly died beside her. Almost died for her. And she had cursed him. Why?

For the others, it was like a switch was snapped and they just suddenly remembered that they knew Hermione Granger. For him, it was different. Because he was the one she had turned her wand on. So he remembered her actually doing it, remembered her walking up to him, speaking to him, then pointing her wand at him. He could even remember the swirl of blue light coming at him. He had been curious but not suspicious. It was Hermione after all, what would she do to harm him? And then, he remembered nothing. Hermione was, just, gone.

Remembering it all again that day at the Ministry was a nightmare Ron had to live in daylight. He felt confused, like he was drugged and couldn't remember his own name. He felt such sadness, like the dementors all over again. He was angrier than he'd ever been, the rage in him threatening to boil over on whoever came near him first. It was like he was a caged animal let loose for the first time, clawing at everything around it.

But what made him angrier than anything else, were the other feelings bubbling at the surface. Elation. Joy. Gratitude. Like he had found a missing puzzle piece he'd been searching for his entire life. Like some great prize had finally been returned to him. Hermione Granger existed and he was glad for it. He wanted to thank the universe for it. He was in lo…

No. He wouldn't say that. Not even think it. Any happiness he had felt at the removal of the memory curse would be pushed away. Because she had betrayed him. And he would never again show her what it had cost him, how it had affected him. Now, for all he cared, she could go to hell.

"Thinking heavy thoughts?" Harry asked, sitting up from his makeshift bed on the floor and securing his glasses on his nose.

"I'm fine. What's the plan?"

Last night after Hermione had shut herself up in the bathroom, Harry had been able to sneak far enough into the room to hit her with a calming spell. She quickly fell into a deep sleep and Harry had carried her to bed. They'd decided to stay the night, as their business wasn't finished. Now, it was well into morning and Ron was anxious to finish up and leave.

The thought made him stop, paralyzed with fear for a moment. If they left now, would he ever see her again? Ron shook his head of the thought. That wasn't a concern now. He was only thinking that way because of where he was, in her living room, surrounded by her things. He glanced around the room, the mounds of books proof enough to tell him it was Hermione's home even if he didn't know anything else about the place.

"Good morning."

Ron looked across the room to see Hermione, standing cautiously against the wall of the living room entry way. She wore a light blue nightgown with a robe over it. Her hair was shorter than years before but no less wild. He wanted to touch it. Instead, he glared at her.

"Hey," Harry said, standing up. "Did you sleep okay?"

Hermione nodded. "Did you stun me?"

"No," Harry said. "Calming spell. You seemed pretty upset."

"Right," Hermione said. She looked like she didn't know whether she should thank Harry or berate him for using the spell. Ron smirked at the irony.

"Should we get some breakfast?" Hermione asked finally.

"Sure," Harry said. "Do you have any toast?"

"I thought we might go in town. There's a little pub. It's not much but maybe it would be good for us to talk there."

In public, Ron thought to himself, silently ending her sentence. She was obviously afraid he was going to lash out again. Well she could hold her breath. He didn't plan to speak to her any more than was necessary for the duration of the day.

Hermione went off to change and Ron folded up the few blankets he and Harry had used to sleep on. It's not like he had a change of clothes, he hadn't known he'd be having a sleepover. He watched Harry closely, trying to figure out what his friend's next move would be. After the blazing shock of remembering Hermione, he and Harry had initiated a search squad to track her down. It had taken them surprisingly little time, Hermione hadn't hidden herself well, at least not well enough to hide from two people who knew her they way he and Harry did. Or at least used to. But they had pushed aside all other assignments, and Ron knew Trottle would be expecting this thing to get wrapped up quickly so they could all move on. Bloody likely.

"We'll tell her the extent of it at breakfast," Harry said, as if reading Ron's thoughts. "She can't cause a scene in a pub, and she doesn't have a wand now, so no canaries."

Ron glowered at Harry's attempt at a joke. She may not have a wand, but she was certainly capable of inflicting pain. And she wasn't going to like what Harry had to tell her.

Hermione emerged then dressed for the day in sensible jeans, boots and a jacket. She held out two knit scarves. Harry took one and she held the other in Ron's general direction.

"It can get cold out there," she said quietly.

"I'll survive."


	5. Chapter 5

The pub was nearly deserted. There was a young guy manning the bar and one middle aged woman walking about checking up on things; she seemed to be the owner. An old man sat by himself in the back, sipping from a coffee mug.

Harry was drinking his own coffee carefully, as if any sudden move might break the precipice he, Ron and Hermione were standing on. He glanced at Ron sitting next to him in the booth. Ron was on a second glass of whiskey, after quickly downing the first in one gulp. Harry looked at his watch, which read nine thirty am. This wasn't a good start.

"After the war, I felt so overwhelmed with everything. I didn't know if I would be going back to school, or if there would even be a school to go back to. I just wanted to start over, where no one knew me as Hermione Granger, 'War Hero.'"

Hermione had been filling them in on why she left. It didn't sound like a convincing story, though Hermione was doing her best to put energy and smiles into the tale. She told them about finding the town in Cornwall, purchasing the cottage, getting a job at the library. It all sounded nice enough, except for one fact: Hermione would have never deserted them.

"What about your parents?" Harry asked. "Don't you see them anymore?"

"Um, no. They…I never reversed their memories. They're still in Australia. I figured, they have a nice life there, why mess it up?"

Ron looked up then, the first sign he'd given all morning that he was listening. He watched Hermione with a curious expression…maybe sympathy? Harry wanted to ask more questions, but was interrupted by the middle aged woman, standing at their table.

"Can I get you and your friends anything else, Hermione?"

"No, thanks Gladys. I think we're fine."

"It's so nice to see you in here with guests," Gladys said, smiling now at Harry and Ron. "She's always in here alone, keeps to herself. Though I know Johnny over there wouldn't mind keeping her company." Gladys nodded toward the barman and Harry turned to look, though Ron kept his head resolutely forward, staring into his whiskey glass.

"Okay, thanks Gladys," Hermione said quickly, clearly embarrassed.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Gladys said. "You know he's sweet on you, and you need to be out with young people. It's not natural, a pretty girl like you being all alone…"

"You know what Gladys," Harry interrupted, "I would love some more coffee. It's delicious."

"Well, great. I'll go get that for you, honey."

Gladys walked off with a purpose and Hermione shot Harry a grateful smile. He shrugged back in response.

"So, how did you do it? The spell I mean. We couldn't figure it out."

"Oh, um, it was a basic memory charm combined with obliviate and…"

"Yeah?"

"A fidelius charm. It's why I only had to charm one person, but everyone forgot me. It's like I was hidden."

"How does that work? It's not like you asked Ron to protect a secret."

"But I did. He just wasn't aware of it. The memory and obliviate charms took care of his forgetting, and the fidelius ensured he would never remember, because I needed him not to." She paused to take a deep breath. "It would only work like that with someone who you knew would never betray you."

Hermione glanced down at her plate, looking pained. Ron finished the rest of his liquid breakfast in one gulp.

"That's great," he said. "Can we go?"

"No," Harry said, putting an arm out to stop Ron from leaving. "Hermione, I have to tell you something. When we began looking for you, it started an investigation. We've spent the last three years investigating people of suspicion and this showed up on the Ministry's radar. There has to be a full report here."

"What are you saying?"

"You have to come back with us."

"Come back?" Hermione sat back quickly, sputtering and looking panicked. "I can't come back. I…I have a life here, and things to do."

"I'm sure the library can do without you for a few days," Ron snickered. Hermione stared at him in disbelief.

"I absolutely cannot come. It's out of the question."

"If you don't come peacefully with us now," Harry said slowly, "Ministry officials will show up at your home and take you forcibly to Azkaban."

Hermione sat frozen for a moment, her mouth open in an O shape. Then, before she could respond, an arm stretched itself across the table, holding a coffee pot.

"Another cuppa for you dear?" Gladys asked.

"No, no thank you. I'm good now."

"Shame. Hermione, when is Sandy getting back in town? Should be soon, right?"

"Um, yes. This evening actually. I need to go now, Gladys." Hermione jumped up from the booth and threw some pound notes on the table. She grabbed her bag and ran out the door in haste. Harry sighed and shot up as well, giving Gladys an apologetic look before darting out onto the street. The sound of footsteps behind him told him Ron wasn't far behind.

"Hermione, you're being unreasonable," he shouted toward the bobbing head of brunette hair in front of him. She was walking with speed down the high street, turning on a side path to begin climbing the hill that Harry knew led to her cottage. He picked up his own speed, though he knew there was no danger of Hermione outrunning them.

"Leave me alone!" She rushed up the steps of her cottage and thrust the front door open, slamming it shut behind her. Harry reached the front door seconds after her and Ron pulled up behind him. The redhead hadn't broken a sweat, having to exert less energy than the rest of them to keep up with his long legs. Harry banged on the door.

"Hermione, I am coming in there whether you like it or not!" He twisted the door knob to find it, unsurprisingly, locked. "Alohomora."

The door opened with a click and both Harry and Ron entered. The house was dark, but it didn't take long to find Hermione in the small space. She stood in the kitchen, her back to them, leaning over the sink. Her shoulders were shaking.

"Harry, I am begging you. Please leave here and don't come back."

"There's no choice here. If I don't bring you back, the consequences will be worse for you. But if you come now, I can probably smooth this over and make it go away quickly. I can even keep you at the burrow, you won't need to stay with the Ministry."

Harry would have said more to soothe her, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Hermione turned at the sound, all color drained from her face. She looked like she had seen a ghost. No, she looked like she had seen Voldemort himself. Harry had never seen her so frightened.

"It's okay, you can get the door."

"I'll fight you," Hermione said in a small voice. Harry fought the feeling of pride in his gut. Even now, she was the same girl, brave to a fault.

"Hermione, we're two well trained aurors. You don't have a wand, and you haven't done magic in three years. You wouldn't stand a chance."

"You wouldn't turn your wand on me."

Ron let out a low, mean chuckle. "Feel good, does it?"

Hermione was quiet again, as if weighing her options. She seemed to come to come to some sort of conclusion, nodding to herself and squaring her shoulders.

"Are you going to get the door then?" Harry asked. Hermione crossed the floor of the kitchen in a few long strides and exited. Harry stood next to Ron, who looked uncomfortable with the way things had gone. In fact, he looked like he would rather be anywhere else on Earth right now. Harry heard the front door click open and Hermione greet whoever was on the other side.

"Sorry I'm early Hermione," a female voice said. "But I got called in to work."

"That's fine Sandy. Thanks for the help, I really needed the break."

Harry heard the door shut again, and he heard Hermione's footsteps as she walked toward to kitchen again. The footsteps stopped just outside the entrance to the kitchen, then started up again.

Hermione reemerged in the kitchen in front of Harry and Ron. In her arms was a smiling, redheaded toddler.


	6. Chapter 6

Ginny straightened the curtains once more and looked out the window for the millionth time. They weren't due for a few more minutes, but she couldn't help checking, just in case. The burrow was full to near capacity. After Harry's owl, word had spread quickly in the family, leading to lots of visitors. Bill and Fleur were upstairs, Percy would stop by after work, and of course Mum and Dad were home. And yet here she was, the only one tidying up. Well, not exactly the only one.

"Mum, please don't hover behind me, it's distracting."

"Sorry dear," Molly Weasley said, turning to dust down an end table. She was only feigning interest in the housework. "Tell me again exactly what Harry said."

"I've already told you," Ginny said with a sigh. "They found Hermione, they're bringing her here, and she has a child."

"Yes, well, that's the part I can't quite wrap my head around. Does she have a husband? Is she raising this child all on her own? How in the short time she's been gone did she manage to meet someone and have a baby?"

Ginny looked at her Mum, unsure of how far Molly's naivete might go.

"Mum, it is possible, you know…maybe she was pregnant before she left."

"No," Molly said with a gasp. "It couldn't be. That would mean the father was….Oh no, you can't think that."

"I think quite a few of us think that," said George Weasley from behind the pages of the "Evening Prophet." He was perched on an armchair, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He sat there, casually reading the paper, as if oblivious to the melee going on around him. But Ginny wasn't fooled. He was anxiously waiting for the chaos to ensue, his favorite environment for the Weasley household.

"Get your feet off the table, young man." Molly swatted at George's feet and he sat up at his mother's insistence. Ginny turned her attention back to the window and saw three familiar figures apparate into the clearing in front of the burrow.

"Well, whatever the answer, we won't have to wait long to get it."

Molly and George rushed to the window at Ginny's declaration and they all peered outside together. Sure enough, there were Ron and Harry guiding a scared-looking Hermione toward the house. And in Hermione's arms was a little girl in pigtails.

"Look at her hair," Molly whispered.

"Weasley red," George and Ginny said together.

"They're here!" Molly shouted throughout the house. Footsteps could instantly be heard running around the various stairwells of the burrow. Angelina Johnson slid down the banister and into the living room, landing just before her husband, George. Arthur walked in from the den where he had been fiddling with a muggle hair dryer he'd recently acquired, and Bill and Fleur walked down from the guest room. Bill carried his young daughter Victoire on his shoulders.

"Eet ees so exciting!" Fleur gushed. The whole group was a mirrored image of excitement, as everyone bustled about the room trying to find a spot. As the front door opened down the hallway, the group froze in a mock casual pose, just in time for the reunited trio to walk into the room.

There was a pause as the two groups, one large one smaller, took each other in. No one seemed to know where to look, least of all Hermione, who settled on staring at her feet. The silence continued as all of the Weasleys, both new and old, took in the sight of the almost forgotten Hermione.

Finally, Hermione looked up, took a deep breath, and said a quiet, "Hello."

Molly exploded in applause.

"Oh, my dear, I can't believe it's you." Molly pulled Hermione to her is a crushing hug. "I can't believe we almost lost you. Oh, you darling girl, it just hasn't been the same without you. Let me look at you. Have you been eating?"

Molly pushed Hermione away from her again to get a good look at the young woman, as Ron rolled his eyes over Harry's shoulder. Looking at Hermione once more, Molly noticed, as if for the first time, the child Hermione carried.

"Hi," the girl said in a sweet child's voice. "I'm Wose."

"She means Rose," Hermione said, smiling down at the child. "She's having trouble with R sounds."

"Oh," Molly said nicely. "Hello Rose. I'm Mrs. Weasley." The two shook hands, with Rose grasping one of Molly's fingers to say hello. Clearly charmed, Molly motioned to Hermione to ask if she might hold the girl. Hermione nodded and passed the child off, looking toward the rest of the Weasleys once more.

"Hermione." She quickly turned her head to find the source of the voice. Ginny took a step forward from the group, looking unsure if she should keep moving or stay in place.

"Ginny?" Hermione's cry was a question and a shout, as if Hermione were surprised to find her friend there. Ginny took another tentative step forward, warring within herself. She was no longer sure if she was supposed to be angry with Hermione or not. She had deceived them all and Ron had been so upset. But it had been so long and Ginny hadn't realized before how much she'd been missing her best friend. Giving in to the longing, Ginny took two steps forward more quickly as Hermione reacted and rushed forward herself. The women embraced each other in a giant hug, both laughing and crying at the same time.

"Great," Ron whispered, though no one seemed to hear him.

"Oh, I've missed you so much," Hermione said, still crying and smiling.

"We have so much to catch up on," Ginny said, stepping back from the hug. "Look." Ginny held out her left hand where the diamond engagement ring sat.

"Oh my…Ginny, who?" Hermione looked quickly over her shoulder to Harry. "Harry?"

Harry smiled shyly and nodded and Hermione gave a squeal of joy, pulling Ginny back toward her in a hug. The rest of the family began slowly with their own reunions. George shook Hermione's hand, causing a small explosion between their palms. He sheepishly showed her the WWW shake shock product, then embraced Hermione warmly, pushing Angelina forward to say hello. Fleur and Bill gave their own hugs, having grown fond of the girl during her time at Shell cottage. Hermione knelt down to coo over Victoire, playing nicely in a playpen with Rose now. Then, Hermione turned to Arthur, who had stood quietly in the back, watching the display.

"Hi Mr. Weasley, it's nice to see you again."

Arthur walked slowly forward, the effects of war and death making him slower but no less amiable. He gave her a small smile then wrapped his arms tightly around the girl.

"Welcome home, Hermione," he whispered in her ear. The room exploded in noise again, each person congratulating the next on the luck of it, recovering a treasure from a war in which so much could never be brought back.

No one seemed to notice the lone figure who had slunk out of the room and into the back yard, Ron wanting absolutely nothing to do with Hermione's grand return.


	7. Chapter 7

Fine bloody time for a party. It's not like anything monumental has happened, not like there's anything worth celebrating. But look at that lot, putting out the cakes and roasts like it's the prodigal daughter returned.

Ron scowled at the scene from his seat on the front porch. Dad had set up a small tent in the yard and heated the interior, claiming the house was too small to accommodate the whole dinner party. Mum had laid out a long table underneath and covered it with trays and trays of food, more food than she prepared each Christmas. Some family. They were traitors, all of them.

Ron swirled his glass of fire whiskey, glad at least that everyone seemed to be getting the hint and was leaving him be. There was no way he was getting drawn into it, you wouldn't see him folding any napkins into swans for the party.

"Ronald Weasley! You get inside this kitchen and start helping this instant young man!"

The sound of his mother's voice shook him from his thoughts, and he dutifully walked back inside with a sigh.

"What?" Ron asked Mum as he entered the kitchen.

"Take these bottles and get them chilled." Mum handed him several bottles of elder wine, taking the glass of fire whiskey from his hand. "And don't you 'what' me!"

Ron rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day, then walked to the kitchen table. He set the bottles out in a row and retrieved a few more from the pantry, then set about cooling them down with his wand. He was just about finished when the sound of a baby's voice distracted him.

"Victoire, I can't play now," Ron said patiently, looking down to where a small toddler was pulling at his pant leg. But it wasn't Victoire, it was Rose. Ron bent down to eye level with the little girl, studying her face as if for the first time. It made him catch his breath.

When Ron and Harry had first seen Rose at Hermione's cottage, Hermione gave them a short story about some village bloke who had run out on her after discovering she was pregnant. She'd made a joke that she'd always had a thing for gingers, a joke that did not make Ron laugh. When he'd first seen Rose he'd felt something similar to what he was feeling now. This child was…familiar to him. Her hair was an unmistakable color, though it had Hermione's thickness. Her small, upturned nose was all Hermione but the eyes were cool blue. Almost as if…

But that was impossible. He and Hermione had never been together, not that way. After the battle they'd spent those first few weeks growing closer together and taking comfort in one another. They'd confessed things to each other and shared some knock out snogging sessions. She'd even told him…told him that she loved him.

But then she left. So it was obviously all a lie. And either way, he and Hermione had never been intimate, so he needed to get all thoughts of this child out of his head.

"Rose, don't run off from me again!" Hermione swooped into the space and snatched up her daughter, burying her nose into the red curls as if she'd been genuinely frightened for the child's well being.

"It's fine," Ron said awkwardly. "I wouldn't have let anything happen to her."

Hermione looked up at him at these words, as if seeing him there for the first time. She nodded slowly in response.

"I know you wouldn't."

Ron let his eyes roam up and down the picture in front of him, a grown up, mature Hermione holding a bouncing redheaded toddler. He'd seen this image before, so many nights in that tent during the hunt thinking there would never be an end, needing a picture of the future to remind him of what he was fighting for. Those days, he just knew if he'd had a Mirror of Erised in front of him, it would have shown him this image he was looking at now.

"Oh Won-Won, I'm so glad you're back!"

Both Ron and Hermione turned at the squeal. Before them stood Lavender Brown, clapping her hands and making a beeline for Ron. Ron looked mildly embarrassed but accepting as Lavender pulled his face to hers and began smothering it with kisses. Hermione watched the display, her skin drained of color and a look similar to disgust on her face.

"Don't ever go away for so long again! They wouldn't even let me see you in recovery, and by the time I heard what happened you were gone!" Lavender paused in her monologue to turn to Hermione. "Ooh, and Hermione, I just can't believe you're here! Ron and I haven't seen you since Hogwarts. You have to tell me absolutely everything that's happened in your life!"

"Um," Hermione looked down at her hand to where Lavender was gripping her, "okay?"

"Oh, sorry, you must be confused," Lavender said with a giggle. "Ron and I are together, we have been this whole time. You'll be seeing a lot of me around here."

Hermione looked at Ron then, searching his face for some sort of confirmation. Ron was staring straight ahead, looking at neither woman. She couldn't tell if he looked ashamed or triumphant.

"Gosh, and look, you have a baby!" Lavender leaned down to get a better look at the child. "Oh my, wow, Hermione she looks just like…"

Lavender stood straight up, her eyes flying to Ron and then looking back at Rose. Her gaze continued to dart between the two for a few seconds, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. You could actually see the moment she made her conclusion.

"Hermione," Lavender said slowly, "who exactly is the father of this child?"

Hermione huffed in indignation.

"Well that's a very personal question to be asking, Lavender."

"Lavender, relax," Ron said quietly. "She's not mine."

Ron looked at Rose almost wistfully as he said it, then looked away as quickly as he could. A crowd was beginning to form in the kitchen. Percy and Audrey had just arrived and had been on their way to greet Hermione, but stopped short when they noticed Lavender's irate face. Mum and Ginny walked in then to get more food to bring outside, and Bill and Harry sat quietly at the kitchen table now, folding napkins into swans.

"I find that difficult to believe!" Lavender shouted in response. "Look at her! And, and, how old is she? She looks almost three. What other redhead was Hermione swooning over three years ago?"

"Actually," Hermione said, with as much confidence as she could muster, "she's two."

"Hermione," Harry said suddenly. "I think we're all a little confused here, as well. She does look quite a bit like, well…you know."

Harry waved his hands helplessly in front of him, as if hoping he wouldn't have to spell it out. Ron continued to bore his gaze into the wall in front of him. He wouldn't look at anyone, and then this whole mess would be over. His jaw was clenched, and he knew it was because he was trying to keep himself from shedding the tears welling up behind his eyes.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, helplessly. "I told you. I told you it was someone else, and he left me."

"I know, but, well, look at her."

"I know perfectly well what my daughter looks like, thank you very much!"

Ginny stepped into the middle then, placing an arm around Hermione in support. This was hard on all of them, but turning on each other wasn't going to help things.

"Hermione, would you mind if I did a spell?" Ginny asked quietly. "I did a lot of nursing after the final battle, and I know a quick charm that could help put this all behind us."

"Wh-what kind of spell?"

"A paternity spell."

Hermione looked wildly around, as if trapped and looking for help.

"I, I don't think that's a great idea," she said. "I don't want magic used on my child."

"It won't harm her," Ginny said. "You can trust me."

"I think that's perfect," Lavender said, a note of venom in her voice. Hermione looked at the blond witch, fear in her eyes but also something else, that look she got before a challenge or a great row.

"Okay."

Ginny slowly pulled her wand out and hovered it over little Rose. Rose looked intrigued by the object, while Ginny looked like she might be sick any moment. Ginny chanted a few words that produced a thin line of gold smoke, swirling around Rose's stomach. Ginny then pointed the wand at Ron, muttering the same incantation, a gold swirl of smoke beginning around his own stomach. Ron watched in fascination as the two lines of gold grew and began reaching out toward one another. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach, not sure of what he wanted the test to find. Hermione, standing next to him with the baby, looked just as terrified. Finally, the two lines of smoke met and twirled together, wrapping around one another until suddenly the bright gold color tuned to black, and then disappeared all together.

"Well, we can all rest easy," Ginny said, looking almost disappointed. "Ron Weasley is not the father of this child."


	8. Chapter 8

What a lovely dinner party, Hermione thought coolly to herself. Looking down the table, she noticed no one was speaking to one another, a stark change to the merriment everyone had been producing just an hour ago. Goes to show you how Lavender Brown can bring down a mood.

Of course, that wasn't fair. This wasn't Lavender's fault. If it was anyone's fault, it was her own. She should never have come. She shouldn't even be sitting there now eating Mrs. Weasley's chicken and peas. She needed to spend every second trying to figure out how to get herself and Rose out of there. She looked over to where her daughter sat on the yard, playing a game with Victoire. Molly had assured her the girls were safe, protected by the famous Weasley wards from any possible intruders.

She had no wand, and the nearest muggle transportation was miles away. It's not like no one would notice her scooping Rose up and making a run for it. Hermione never thought she'd see the day she'd be held captive by Harry Potter, but then a lot of things had turned out in ways she couldn't have imagined.

Ron wasn't speaking to her again. That moment in the kitchen was the first non-hostile sentence he'd said to her in years, and then it was ruined. By Lavender. Ugh. Of all the people he could have ended up with, why did it have to be Lavender? But Hermione knew she shouldn't be cross about it. She'd left Ron, leaving him free for someone else, it's only natural he hadn't sat around single the whole time. Like she had…

"I had the nicest visit with Hagrid last weekend," Lavender said suddenly, interrupting the silence. Hermione raised an eyebrow. Lavender was chummy with Hagrid? What a bizarre world she had created.

"I was going to apparate there, but then of course Ron reminded me that was impossible." Lavender giggled and rubbed Ron's arm. "He just loves quoting his favorite book."

"What book?" Hermione asked automatically. She hadn't meant to speak, but the question flew out of her mouth.

"Hogwarts: A History," Lavendar said, turning to Hermione. Hermione could tell by Lavender's expression that she hadn't yet forgiven Hermione for having a child that looked so much like Ron. "He's read it loads of times."

"Ron has never read Hogwarts: A History," Hermione protested. Her brain was screaming at her to shut up, but her mouth wouldn't listen. Ron, an avid reader?

"Yes he has," Lavender nearly hissed, slanting her eyes. "He's always quoting it, always asking me 'Haven't you ever read Hogwarts: A History?' It's very cute."

Lavender continued rubbing Ron's arm and nodding at him, waiting for Ron to speak up. Ron tugged lightly at the collar of his shirt and cleared his throat.

"Yes," he said finally. "I've read it a few times."

Lavender turned back to Hermione, a triumphant look in her eyes.

"When?" Hermione asked quietly, skepticism written all over her face. Ron was silent, looking back and forth between Lavender and Hermione, clearly confused as to whether he should continue the conversation.

"Second year," Harry offered, after a long and awkward silence. "He read it in second year."

Ron glared at Harry, clearly indicating his friend should stop talking. Hermione's attention was laser focused on Harry.

"Second year?' she asked. "But, he never said anything to me. All those times I pestered him to read it, he acted like I was asking him to read hieroglyphics."

"Yes, well, I'm a mysterious guy," Ron said suddenly. "Mum, this chicken is delicious."

"Ron, why did you read it second year?" Lavender asked slowly. Hermione looked down at her plate, pushing peas around with her fork. She already regretted continuing this topic for so long, clearly she'd started some trouble.

"Ron?" Lavender persisted again, more urgently.

"Um, the end of second year…" Ron trailed off, staring at his plate as well. "Well, uh, Hermione was sick. She was in the infirmary, after being petrified."

Hermione swallowed hard, she didn't want to hear anymore. Ron didn't look like he would say anything more anyway.

"Ron stole my invisibility cloak every night," Harry said, continuing where his friend obviously could not. "He thought I didn't know, but he really is a noisy git. He snuck down each night to read to Hermione."

Hermione swallowed again, blinking rapidly and begging her tears to stay at bay. Please, please don't let me cry now, not here.

"That was very nice Ron," Ginny said, eyeing her brother as if seeing him in a new light. "Hermione was down there for quite some time."

The whole table was quiet, looking at Ron for some sort of explanation. Silence engulfed the scene, until Ron finally spoke in a clear, low voice.

"One month, two weeks, five days," Ron said, staring even harder at his chicken. Then he looked Hermione straight in the eyes. "I didn't want you to be all alone out there."

Hermione caught her breath, pressing her lips together to keep from crying out. Surely this was the universe punishing her. She was sitting here, looking at Ron, hearing him say such things. And yet she had to keep her distance, not touch him, and she was the one responsible. It was too much, it hurt too much, and Hermione was sure she would crumble any minute at the torture of it.

"Let's change the subject, shall we?" Lavender said briskly, rearranging the napkin on her lap. The table came to life again after a moment where everyone was frozen, enraptured by the story unfolding before them. Audrey started to pass potatoes down the table and Bill began refilling wine glasses, while Arthur clapped Harry on the back to start some shop talk.

"Trottle tells me you and Ron will get started back up on your next case. Any telling when? I hear it's a big one."

"Yes," Harry said, pushing his glasses up. "You know we've been trying to bring in Shraxen and Willigsbee ever since they did that number on Ron last year…"

The rest of Harry's sentence was cut off by the sound of Hermione's plate crashing to the ground. All of the occupants at the table looked to Hermione, who was now crouched on the ground, trying to clean up the mess and mumbling to herself.

Calm down, calm down, Hermione thought to herself. "Oh dear," she said out loud. It can't be, it isn't time, we aren't prepared, how could they have found out? Hermione continued to berate herself internally, clearly frightened by Harry's story but looking to everyone like she had finally lost it.

Hermione paused with the bits of broken plate in her hand, closed her eyes and tried to think of what to do. There was a time her mind was sharper than anyone around her, and now it seemed she couldn't think far ahead enough to work out even one problem.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry asked. He had moved from his spot down the table to crouch next to her, helping her pick up the pieces of plate. "Don't cut yourself."

Hermione stood suddenly, dropping the bits of plate on the table. She looked hard at Ron, a frantic urgency in her eyes. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, as if she wasn't sure what to say. Then she closed it again, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"What did they do to you?"

Ron looked up, clearly surprised that the question was addressed to him. Being attacked by two of the nastiest death eaters still at large wasn't something he wanted to spend too much time thinking about, especially considering what a close call it had been.

"They tortured him!" Lavender wailed, misting up. "They crucioed him, then left him for dead in a gutter! Oh, thank goodness Harry found him when he did!"

Lavender flung her arms dramatically around Ron's neck as Hermione continued to watch him. They hadn't killed him. They could have, but they didn't. Hermione closed her eyes in relief.

"He was all right, Ron did great," Harry said quietly, laying down the remaining pieces of broken plate on the table. "It threw us for a loop though. We'd been searching for Shraxen and Willigsbee for some time, they were on a long list of known death eaters in hiding. But we'd had reports that they'd been far away at the time, in Ireland. It didn't make sense, them being in London when they were."

"But you're sure it was them?"

"Yeah, it was them," Ron said, looking haunted. "They kept asking me where my family was. Bit weird. Not that I gave them any information, but everyone knows where to find the Weasley family."

Hermione nodded, feeling her heart sink. She had to get out of here, and fast. Turning from Ron she quickly catalogued her options again, still finding no way to leave efficiently. She decided it would have to wait till later, when everyone was asleep. She scanned the yard then for her daughter, looking for the familiar small red head.

"Rose, no!" Hermione shrieked as she saw that her daughter, who had only just started walking a few months ago, was standing dangerously close to crossing the edge of the protective wards surrounding the Weasley home. With one more step, Rose tumbled over and past the barrier. Looking behind her at her mother's yell, Rose picked herself up again to begin crawling back toward her Mum. And then, with two quick movements, Rose pulled herself back through, crossing the enchanted barriers that would only give way for someone with the last name Weasley.


	9. Chapter 9

Ginny thought she had seen the burrow in chaos before. She was wrong. The shouting going on right now was deafening. Fortunately, they all had moved inside, as even the muggles four miles north in Ottery St. Catchpole could have heard the screaming going on at the moment.

Mum was shouting at each of her sons in turns, screaming about infidelity and wedlock and other such nonsense. Dad was trying to shout over Mum, begging her to calm down. George screamed back at Mum that he had nothing to do with it, taking moments to turn and yell at Angelina who was whopping him over the head with a rolled up newspaper. Audrey and Percy were having a heated argument next to them, Percy waving his arms and shouting out words like "Preposterous!" and "Absurd!" Both Bill and Lavender were shouting at Ron, slumped in a corner, both of them convinced he had something to do with it. Fleur was pulling on Bill's arm and pleading with him to stop for the sake of the children.

The only people not making a commotion, it occurred to Ginny, were herself, Harry and Hermione. Harry was pensive, deep in thought, and Hermione stood quietly as far away from the rest of them, gently rocking Rose in her arms.

"I don't know why you lot are biting my head off!" Ron finally shouted, jumping up from his seat. "We already did the charm, we know it wasn't me!"

"Well it was somebody!" Mum shouted back. "And we are going to find out who took advantage of sweet Hermione when she was just a girl!"

"Yes, poor sweet Hermione, who never did anything wrong!" Ron replied, suddenly set off. "Are we forgetting SHE TURNED HER WAND ON ME? And, she's standing right here! Why not make her give us an explanation?"

Ron collapsed back in his seat, the energy leaving him after everything he had dealt with the last few days. Ginny took a tentative step forward to look at Hermione, whose face was a blank canvas, revealing nothing.

"Hermione, I do think it's time you tell us who Rose's dad is."

Hermione continued to rock Rose, bouncing the child up and down in a frantic rhythm, shaking her head back and forth at the same time in a motion that matched the rocking. Ginny had never seen Hermione act so strangely, her friend looked…cornered. Ginny was torn between anger, frustration and sympathy for her long lost best friend.

Hermione blinked quickly then turned to where Harry stood next to her, pleading with her eyes for him to help her.

"Don't look to Harry, Hermione," Ginny said boldly, some of the rising anger coming out. "This doesn't concern him. Now, we're all glad you're back, but it's time you were honest with us. We're family, aren't we?"

Hermione stared back at Ginny, tears welling up in her eyes. Ginny watched as a few tears escaped and fell down Hermione's cheeks, and Hermione struggled to catch her breath.

"Oh, this is no use," Lavender said, throwing her hands up in the air. "I say we do the paternity charm on all of them, one by one. People are going to want to know who this child's father is!"

"People?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Yes, of course," Lavender said, exasperated. "People are already talking about it in Diagon Alley and the Ministry. I was just speaking to Padma about it this afternoon, and she couldn't believe…"

"No." Hermione's gasp was forced out of her, and her shout stalled all conversation around her. Ginny looked at her friend, who was slowly backing farther away from the group, shaking her head more vehemently now. Hermione clutched at Rose as if her life depended on it.

"You didn't, you haven't told people about her?"

"Obviously," Lavender said, rolling her eyes. "This is very good gossip you know."

Hermione began breathing heavily and looked like she might faint. Ginny was suddenly nervous and scared for her friend, and Harry next to her was beginning to look concerned as well. They both took a step toward Hermione.

"It's okay, I'm sure no one's going to bother you about it," Ginny said, giving Hermione a hopeful smile. Hermione just stared back at Ginny, horror written on her face. Ginny wondered what was bringing this about, why Hermione cared so much that people knew she had a child, why she wouldn't just tell them all who the father was…

All conversation was cut off by a knock at the door. Ginny looked toward the front door then looked back to Hermione, who had closed her eyes as if waiting for an execution squad. It was almost as if Hermione knew who the source of the knock was.

"I'll get it," Mum said skeptically, walking toward the entry as if not sure what she would find on the other side. The door was swung open to reveal two very authoritative looking men, each wearing a badge denoting them as members of the Ministry.

In an instant, Hermione's eyes snapped back open and she thrust Rose into Ginny's arms. Hermione's gaze blazed with intensity as she told Ginny, "Hide her. Now."

Ginny didn't have time to think, she only reacted. She didn't understand what was going on and she had a million questions that needed answering. But that look in Hermione's eyes, well, she'd never seen anything like it. Pure trust and instinct took over. Hermione needed this child hidden, and whatever else she was unsure of, Ginny knew she would always be on Hermione's side in a fight.

Ginny flew down the stairs leading to the basement. Throwing open the basement door, she rushed down, lighting her wand as she went so she could make sense of the darkness. She conjured a thick blanket and laid it on the floor, placing Rose on top of the blanket. She began placing as many protective charms as she could think of the guard the child, lit some more lights, then flew back to the basement door. Securing it with three strong locking charms, Ginny raced back into the living room just in time to see the two Ministry officials placing Hermione in handcuffs.

"This doesn't make any sense," Harry argued with the taller of the two officials. "Daggenham, this is my friend, I've brought her here. You have no right!"

"We have every right," Daggenham said, tapping a scroll of paper. "I mean no offense, but this is no longer under your jurisdiction. First, we have reports that one of our generals has had a mind alteration, a strong one at that, just before he's set to go out on a case to find Shraxen and Willigsbee…"

"And then, we learn the person responsible for it is concealing another magical witch, unregistered with the Ministry," Daggenham's partner continued. "We have no record of this child. Why is she hiding her? It's all very suspicious."

"Yes, I agree the circumstances look bad, but this can all be explained," Harry argued, helplessly. He stood in between the officials and a handcuffed Hermione.

"Finally," Daggenham said, "we've just received a report that someone has entered past the Weasley wards, someone who we don't have on record as authorized to pass."

"Yes," Harry said. "But that's because…"

"Harry," Hermione interrupted. "It's all right. I'll go."

The Weasley family looked at her sharply, stunned at her statement. Ron looked pained, his hands constantly twitching as if he might at any moment begin throwing hexes. He looked like he wanted to throw himself in front of Hermione, something Lavender seemed to be noticing as she eyed Ron suspiciously.

"Can I just have a moment?" Hermione asked the officials. "To say goodbye?"

The men nodded and walked toward the front door. Hermione turned to Ginny and walked closer, Harry following behind her until he stood next to Ginny. Hermione addressed them both.

"You're…the two of you…" Hermione took a breath. "You're both listed as Rose's godparents on the birth certificate. If anything happens…you must…You have to protect her."

Hermione's eyes shifted quickly between Harry and Ginny's, an unmistakable intensity there that Ginny had only seen before on her own Mum's face. Hermione was genuinely afraid for Rose's life. Ginny and Harry both nodded, then Hermione walked back toward the Ministry officials and was escorted out of the burrow.

There was quiet throughout the house for a few long seconds, and then a crashing noise as Ron slammed a glass onto the floor.

"Will you please quit breaking things?" Harry fumed. Ron glared back at him.

"What are we doing?" Ron asked, an intent expression on his face letting everyone know that action would be taken, now. Harry nodded in response and ran a hand through his hair.

"We'll go to the Ministry head of arrests now and figure out exactly what they're charging her with. Then we find her holding cell and speak with the officers there, try and determine how long they'll keep her. Ron, this is…it'll probably go to trial."

"And what if she's found guilty?" Ginny asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Harry looked at her, pain in his eyes. And fear.

"What they accused her of, it sounds like charges of terrorism, Gin," Harry said, quietly. "This could end with Azkaban."

Ginny's hand flew to her mouth and Mum gasped. Fleur took a heavy seat on a nearby chair and Dad put his hands in his head.

"That's not happening," Ron said, determined. He picked up his wand and strode briskly toward the fireplace, throwing in some floo powder and calling out in a strong voice, "Ministry of Magic." At the same time, Ron and Harry walked into the green flames, for a moment looking once again like young boys out to save the world, and then they were gone.


	10. Chapter 10

Ron banged his head on the metal bar behind him, the clanking sound and the pain it inflicted on his skull a welcome distraction. He had never been in this part of the Ministry before. His business usually found him in the questioning rooms they brought prisoners to early on or in the court rooms where it was all decided afterward. Ron had been sitting on the floor just outside the bars of that cell for about an hour now, waiting for Harry to return with something, any information he could gather.

Ron banged his head a second time for good measure.

Turning over his shoulder, he spied Hermione sleeping soundly on a cot in her cell. They'd hit her with a sleeping charm after they'd brought her in, the front secretary had told him. Apparently, she'd become frightened and started screaming and lashing out, and the guards didn't know what else to do. Ron shuttered, thinking about Hermione in that state. He'd never seen her so scared as he had these past few hours, even back at the burrow when they were just eating dinner. She seemed so…guarded. Like something was coming for her. What it was, Ron couldn't fathom. But he knew he wasn't moving from that spot until someone gave him some answers.

Behind him, Hermione began stirring in her bed. It sounded like she was moaning and then he heard whimpers. Ron reckoned she was having a bad dream. He stood to look at her and watched as creases appeared on her forehead. She began mumbling something in her sleep.

"Nooo," she said quietly. "No, please…Ron."

Ron? She'd said his name, and not in a good way. Ron pointed his wand at her, chanting a calming spell and watched as the magic hit her, easing away the furrow in her brow as if Ron himself had caressed her. Satisfied, Ron smiled slightly, happy to have provided at least a little comfort. Remembering something, he dug in his pocket and retrieved a small stuffed bunny. Rose had dropped in when Ginny had snatched her down to the basement, and Ron had bent to pick it up. He'd meant to hand it to Ginny but she was gone too quickly, and Ron had pocketed it instead. He wasn't sure why.

Now, he floated the small toy through the air using his wand, carefully guiding it until it landed just on top of Hermione's left arm. Almost instinctively, Hermione turned in her sleep to cradle the bunny, moving her face in close to its ears and inhaling deeply.

Hermione looked so peaceful, it was almost easy to forget the turmoil she and everyone around her was currently in. During the time between Hermione being taken from the burrow and Ron and Harry finding her cell after much arguing with several Ministry heads, Hermione had been scanned, treated and admitted into the holding ward. Upon arrival, one of the younger officers on duty, a guy Harry and Ron had trained themselves, informed them of a peculiarity they'd found during scanning.

Officer Smidgehorn, aware about the element of the unknown child in the case, informed Ron and Harry that a maternity charm had been given to Hermione. The charm told the attendants on duty that Hermione had never given birth to any child before, that there was no way she could have borne Rose.

Ron was at once baffled and furious. Whatever this meant, whatever it was, it would only give the Ministry more ammunition against Hermione. She was looking more suspect by the moment. And as each moment passed by, Ron found himself caring less and less. She could lie to him all she wanted, rip his heart out and walk on it as often as she liked, so long as she was alive and healthy and he could get her out of this godforsaken cell.

"Hey." Ron turned quickly with his wand raised, realizing immediately that it was only Harry.

"What'd you find out?" Ron asked urgently, skipping to the point. Harry shook his head.

"They won't let her go until a formal trial," Harry said, holding up a hand to keep an exasperated Ron from interrupting. "Fortunately, I've used my pull to get that moved to tomorrow morning."

"And that's good, right?"

"Well, it's good if they let her off, she'll be out of here by tomorrow afternoon, but…"

"What is it?"

"If they find her guilty, she'll be moved to Azkaban…tomorrow."

Ron turned from Harry at that, throwing two hands into his hair and rubbing vigorously. This was a nightmare, the blood in his body was screaming at him to start throwing a fit, start yelling, start shouting hexes until somebody came to their senses and let Hermione go.

"Ron, Ron," Harry whispered, moving closer to his friend. "We just have to make sure that doesn't happen. I did some talking, and I've gotten Trottle assigned to this. He'll be presiding over tomorrow, and you know we have a good relationship with him."

Ron nodded.

"We'll all be there, ready to step in if things get…out of hand"

"Right." Ron took a long pause, as if making his mind up about something. "Harry, I won't let them take her."

"I know, Ron," Harry said with a sigh. "I won't either."

The two men nodded, both agreeing and understanding the other with no further explanation needed. Harry had no confusion over the depth of Ron's feelings for Hermione, however angry with her he may be at the moment, and Ron certainly knew Harry looked on Hermione as a real sister. No one would harm her if they were nearby.

"There's more," Harry said quietly. Ron nodded for him to go on.

"They think this might have something to do with Shraxen and Willigsbee, they think Hermione might be in cahoots with them."

"What? That's insane."

"I know, but look at the evidence. This all began just before you and I were about to start a full scale mission to track them down. And tonight, Ministry got word the two of them have been spotted in Diagon Alley. The last we heard of them they were in Wales. They're getting closer."

Ron shuddered, imagining what the two of them could do if they got anywhere near the Ministry or the auror department. Jefferson Shraxen and Damius Willigsbee were two of the most wanted death eaters from Voldemort's time. Following the war, account after account mounted concerning their involvement in countless tortures and murders, and they'd been part of more than one conspiracy to bring down both Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic on several occasions. The night they'd cornered Ron one year ago, all by himself coming home from a pub in the dark, it had been as if they were waiting for him, like they'd known just where he'd be.

Tell us where they are, Shraxen had hissed, his foot on Ron's throat.

Who? Ron had croaked out.

Your family, Willigsbee had whispered maniacally.

They'd tried without success to get information out of Ron, throwing the Cruciatus Curse at him so many times he'd lost count. Thank goodness for his auror training, or he might have succumbed. Finally, the two left him, like they'd lost interest. Before flying off, Shraxen had inspected Ron's left hand, dropped it, whispered to his partner It's not time, then disappeared. Ron didn't come to for another twenty-seven hours.

"Harry," Ron said now. "What was the nature of that mission going to be? What were we going after?"

"I can't tell you much, but the Ministry believes some of the death eaters got their hands on a particular prophecy some time ago, before the Department of Mysteries was destroyed. They think Shraxen and Willigsbee are looking for something related to that prophecy, to fulfill one of Voldemort's last, dark plans."

"Do you know what the prophecy was?"

"I know some of it," Harry said, looking at Ron with weary eyes. "Not many people do, the fewer the better. Remember, a prophecy only has as much power as you give it."

"But obviously this one's important, if the Ministry's making such a fuss over it, and if they're bringing Hermione in on charges in connection to it."

Harry nodded, looking over his shoulder to stare at Hermione, then turning his gaze back at Ron.

"The best thing to do right now is get some sleep," Harry said finally.

"I'm not leaving."

"No," Harry said, "I didn't figure you would."

Harry turned to go as Ron settled back down on the floor outside the bars. Ron watched Harry walk toward the exit, before his friend stopped and looked back at him with one curious glance. Whatever was on Harry's mind, Ron figured he could use a calming spell as well.


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione swung her legs over the cot bed, stretching her limbs and trying to rub a knot out of her neck. The bed had been stiff, causing her muscles to ache this morning, but somehow she felt rested. It was as if she'd slept better than she had in years, calmed somehow by an outside presence. She looked down then at the stuffed bunny in her hand. Funny, she didn't remembering bringing it the previous night.

Suddenly, she remembered everything; the questions, the cell, leaving Rose behind. At the thought of Rose her head dropped to her knees and she wrapped her arms around her legs, ready to give in to a good cry.

"Hermione Granger?" a guard called. "You have guests."

The barred door swung open then and in walked Harry and Ginny, Arthur and Molly, and Ron and Lavender. Hermione suppressed a groan at the sight of Lavender, though she supposed the girl would be the least of her worries that day. Ginny sat down next to Hermione on the cot and handed her a fresh cup of tea, and Hermione smiled in thanks.

"What's going to happen?" Hermione asked as Harry sat on a bench across from her.

"We're going into the formal trial soon. It'll be tough, but I know the presiding head. He should be fair."

Hermione nodded, noticing Harry looked like he hadn't slept in days. They all did actually, except maybe Lavender.

"Where's…"

"Rose is at home with Bill and Fleur," Ginny answered quickly, before Hermione could finish her question. Hermione let out a sigh of relief, and then eyed the group around her. She knew the tests they'd performed on her last night had something to do with Rose, but she wasn't sure how much was revealed.

"Hermione, we know," Harry said. Hermione's eyes darted up to his then, and she knew they were both thinking about the same thing.

"Yes, dear, they say there's something about Rose," Molly said delicately. "That perhaps you're not her mother."

Hermione took her time looking at each of them carefully, like a caged animal at a zoo might eye the intruders watching it from outside the glass. She shook her head softly no, telling them she wouldn't speak on the subject.

"Great, well I'm glad we got that all cleared up," Lavender said sarcastically. "You know, we are trying to help you Hermione."

"I can take care of myself, thanks." Hermione pulled her knees closer as she said it, knowing she was doing a poor job of convincing anyone of that fact. But she wouldn't take pity, least of all from Lavender Brown. She was Hermione Granger, for goodness sake. She helped kill Voldemort, she was the cleverest witch of her age. She'd lived three years with a burning secret and a mission that would have seen Lav-Lav collapse after one day. She could at least handle this.

"Mr. Ron," a high pitched male voice squeaked. Hermione looked up to see one of the officers who'd checked her in passing by her cell.

"Hiya Smidgehorn," Ron said distractedly.

"You know Mr. Ron, if you want to sleep here again, you just let me know," Smidgehorn continued. "I can at least get you a blanket and pillow, you must have been freezing sleeping on the floor like that."

"That won't be necessary Smidgehorn, thanks."

Hermione looked at Ron, confused. He had slept here? Outside her cell? All night? Ron was looking resolutely at the floor, the tips of his ears turning telltale red and his arms crossed tightly against his chest.

"You spent the night here?" Lavender said, half whisper and half hiss.

"Can we talk about this later?" Ron begged quietly. "In private?"

Lavender huffed and turned to leave the cell.

"I'll be in the trial room," she said loudly. "I'm sure you'll all be joining me in there soon." She stared pointedly at Ron as she turned on one heel and exited.

"The Wizengamot won't be so tough after her, huh?"

"Ginny," Ron shot back, "please?"

"What?" Ginny asked innocently. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

The group began readying themselves to leave as well. Molly and Arthur both hugged Hermione and told her to keep her chin up. Ginny embraced her tightly and whispered in her ear that they would all be out there for her, then left herself. Hermione turned finally to Ron and Harry, not sure what to say to them.

"It will be all right Hermione," Harry said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Do you believe me?"

Hermione nodded as Harry hugged her, then she whispered in his ear.

"Remember…"

"I remember, protect Rose," Harry replied, letting her go. "But you've got to stop being so cryptic."

Harry left then with one backward glance at Hermione and Ron, left by themselves in the cell. It was the first time in three years they'd been alone together.

"I won't let anything happen to you, Hermione."

Hermione looked in his eyes and held her breath. His stare was so earnest, so sincere. She knew he meant it, and it killed her.

Ron made a move as if he were going to embrace her then thought better of it, instead reaching out to grasp one of her hands in his own. He caressed her fingers slowly, back and forth. It was the first time he'd touched her since she'd been back, and it was intoxicating. But it wasn't enough. She wanted to fling herself at him, wrap her arms around him and bury her head into his chest. She wanted to sob to him, beg him never to let her go, plead with him to do whatever it took to keep them together.

"Ron," she said instead, removing her fingers from his hand. "Leave me alone."


	12. Chapter 12

Harry looked up from his seat in the stands as soon as the chamber doors opened. All the members of the Wizengamot and Mr. Trottle were already seated in the top space, and the only one left to enter was Hermione. Sure enough, there she was, being led in by a guard and looking defiant. Her chin stuck up in the air and he was reminded of a bossy little eleven-year-old. Still, all her strength aside, Harry saw fear in her eyes.

Hermione was brought to the center podium, where the guard took out a binding device and locked her hands to the podium.

"Is that really necessary?" Ginny huffed from his left. To his right, Ron stood tall and unflinching, his hands gripping the low guard rail in front of them as if he might rip it off.

"Please state your name for the record," Mr. Trottle called out loudly.

"Hermione Granger," she responded in a clear voice. The sound was small to Harry and he thought not for the first time that day how young she still was, and how much she had faced so far.

"Do you understand the charges brought against you?"

"No, I most certainly do not," Hermione responded, indignant. Mr. Trottle looked taken aback. He wasn't used to trouble this early in.

"What is the source of your confusion, miss?"

"There are no grounds for my holding here," Hermione replied, her chin still out. "There's no proof to anything I've been accused of, and I've not even been afforded council in order to defend myself."

"If you've done nothing wrong," Mr. Trottle said. "Why would you need council?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the man, as if he'd just asked a very idiotic question.

"I need council, sir, to properly defend myself against these untrue allegations. I've not been part of the magical world for some time and I haven't been given the proper materials regarding any new legislation."

"Why don't we just proceed with the questioning, and if we come to a bit you don't understand we'll see if I can't explain it to you."

Harry snorted. From the looks Hermione was throwing the Wizengamot, he had a feeling they'd be the ones get an explaining-to shortly.

"I understand you wiped the memory of one Ronald Weasley on 3 June, 1998. Is that correct?"

"No, that is not correct." Mr. Trottle looked surprised. "I did not wipe his complete memory, I removed certain details and used a fidelius charm to keep aspects of my personal life a secret."

"Yes, and can you tell me precisely why you did this?"

"I was an overwhelmed young girl, ill equipped to face challenges before me," Hermione said crisp and clearly, almost as if it were a practiced speech. "It was an immature decision, but I assure you not one motivated by malice."

"It's all right, she's doing okay," Ron whispered, looking almost hopeful, even though Hermione's words were basically describing how she had run away from him. Harry shook his head no at his friend, he didn't think they were out of the woods just yet.

"And can you tell me the nature of your relationship with the young child known as Rose?"

"I'm her mother." Hermione's tone was final, as if not willing to speak further on the subject.

"Yes, but our tests show that not to be the case."

"I'm her mother," Hermione reiterated. "Your tests are wrong."

"If that's so, why didn't you have her accounted for in the national wizarding registry upon her birth?" Trottle looked triumphant here, thinking he'd caught her in a corner she couldn't escape from.

"My daughter's father is a muggle and I've lived as a muggle for three years, with no intention of returning to magic," Hermione said slowly, her face set. Ron let out a breath and looked down at his hands.

"My child has displayed no aptitude for magic whatsoever," Hermione continued. "For all intents and purposes, she is a muggle."

Trottle paused here, studying his gavel as if taking in all the facts he'd just heard. He gave Hermione a long, hard look, then leaned forward to speak again.

"It's a very nice story, Miss Granger, but unfortunately I'm not buying into it." Trottle motioned toward a man in the back and the officer stepped forward, carrying a small bottle on a silver tray. Harry watched Hermione study the tray, and could tell the exact moment she realized what was in that bottle.

"Harry," Ginny said urgently, pulling on his sleeve. "They won't…they couldn't."

Harry looked down as the man with the bottle got closer to Hermione. Next to him, Ron shifted, moving his hand closer to where his wand rested in his pocket.

"You can't use veritaserum on me," Hermione said in a grave voice.

"Oh but I can," Trottle replied merrily. "As you mentioned, you're not up to date on wizard law. Following the Great War, we enacted some special regulations for those thought to be co-conspirators to death eaters."

"We should have got Kingsley involved," Harry said quickly to the group around him. "I didn't realize how serious it had gotten."

Harry inwardly cursed himself. He should have been prepared for this. But he'd had no idea the amount of trouble Hermione was in. He knew anyone suspected of working with Shraxen and Willigsbee had been placed under extreme suspicion, true. But obviously Hermione had nothing to do with them, surely anyone could see that.

The pair had been under watch since the Ministry caught wind that they'd confiscated a certain Prophecy 472, one of the last know prophecies in existence. The prophecy spoke of a trio, and at first the investigating council believed it to regard Harry, Ron and some third, unidentified person. Of course, that was during the time when no one remembered Hermione existed. They would have certainly assumed it regarded her as well if anyone had remembered. Except even that wouldn't have made sense, as further research into the writing of the prophecy revealed the third party to be a child of some sort…

Harry froze, every nerve in his body standing on end.

"They can't give that to her." But it was too late. Harry watched in horror as a struggling Hermione was forcibly made to drink three drops of the potent veritaserum. Harry could almost feel the blood drain from his face. Hermione choked several times and gripped the podium in front of her, her head hung down.

"Now," Trottle said smugly. "Why don't we try this again."

Hermione glared back at him, her mouth clamped shut, as if she could forcibly will the words to stay inside her.

"The child we have been speaking of, what is her name?"

Hermione paused only half a second before responding, "Rose Weasley."

Hermione closed her eyes as several members of the public, who knew the name Weasley so well, gasped throughout the room.

"Is she a muggle?"

Hermione clearly struggled to keep her mouth closed, before blurting out "No."

Trottle looked pleased, settling himself farther back in his chair to get comfortable.

"Did you give birth to her?"

Hermione's eyes closed even tighter and her knuckles turned white on the podium as she struggled to stay quiet.

"No," she gasped finally, breathing hard from the exertion. Trottle looked intrigued and sat forward once more.

"So you've kidnapped her?"

"No, no I haven't, I swear," Hermione said desperately. Trottle looked on Hermione suspiciously, then his face settled in a more sinister expression.

"What do you know of two death eaters by the names of Jefferson Shraxen and Damius Willigsbee?"

"Not, not much," Hermione said, gulping in air now that she could speak on a different subject. "They were two followers of Tom Riddle, they performed heinous crimes, and they haven't been caught to date."

"Indeed. And do you know anything about Prophecy 472?"

"I've heard of it," Hermione said, almost whispering.

"What's Prophecy 472?" Ginny asked Harry, worry across her face. Harry just shook his head and looked back to Hermione.

"That's interesting, Miss Granger," Trottle continued. "Very few have heard of this particular prophecy before. Is it possible this has anything to do with your little obliviating charm?"

"Yes." Hermione's answer was firm, though she immediately looked down after replying. Trottle leaned down low from his perch, clearly readying himself for the kill. He paused for dramatic flourish, making sure all eyes in the room were watching. He needn't have bothered, none of the spectators dared move an inch as they looked on in rapt attention.

"Why exactly did you obliviate Mr. Weasley?" Trottle asked finally.

Ron leaned forward next to Harry, craning his neck out to hear better. In fact, Harry could sense four sets of Weasley eyes now more focused following that question. Hermione struggled longer this time, trying to keep the words down. After three whole seconds, she replied, "I was told to."

"By who, Miss Granger?"

Hermione fought this time harder than the last, placing her forehead to the podium, looking as if she were trying to bite her tongue off rather than speak.

"Harry Potter," she called out at last, before falling to her knees. Her body shook from the experience and her hands and arms were still propped above her, cuffed to the top of the podium. There was a sudden spark of conversation throughout the room as the crowd reacted to the salacious news. Somewhere behind him, Harry heard Lavender remark, "I can't believe Harry did that!" Harry turned quickly to Ron, who looked like he was considering whether or not to punch him. Harry shook his head viciously no, trying to convey that he hadn't done this awful thing. Of course he hadn't, what would ever make him do such a, he would never betray…

"Oh my God," Harry said suddenly, quietly looking to Ron and Ginny. "I know what she's done."

"Well then do something about it!" Ron said loudly, his voice lost in the sea of commotion going on in the trial hall. Down below, Trottle banged his gavel to demand silence. The room dropped to a hush once more and whensatisfied he had his attention back, Trottle continued.

"Do you mean to tell me Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, told you to obliviate and tamper with the mind of his dearest friend?"

"Yes," Hermione said, still on her knees.

"And what would possess him to do such a thing?"

"It was important," Hermione replied, looking at Trottle now.

"Why?"

"Something bad would have happened."

Harry inwardly cheered, realizing Hermione was coming up with circular answers, replies that were technically true but didn't give anything away. Not even Hermione would be able to keep that forever, though.

"Yes, obviously," Trottle shouted, getting frustrated. "And what bad thing would have happened?"

Hermione flushed for a second, shoving her head far down to rest on her knees, before her head sprang up again, tears finally escaping her eyes.

"Someone would have died!" she shouted back at last. She shook back and forth while on her knees, trying to claw her way out of the bonds on her wrists. Finding no escape there she frantically searched the crowd, turning her face up to look for one person.

"Harry!" she sobbed miserably.

Harry was out of his seat in an instant. He hopped over the railing as if it were a low fence, then jumped over a second railing under that. Landing with both feet securely on the ground of the main floor, he rushed to the center podium and gathered Hermione up in his arms. Her body wracked with sobs and she buried her face in his neck.

"Potter, what is the meaning of this?" Mr. Trottle asked, banging his gavel several more times to regain order. Harry pulled Hermione away from him to look at her, great big tear tracks already taking shape on her cheeks and her whole face was red.

"Help me," she whispered quietly enough for only him to hear. He nodded in understanding and turned to the Wizengamot.

"Mr. Trottle, I know this is unorthodox, but this woman is my friend. This whole trial began when I initiated a mission to track her down. Considering my record with the department and the fact we've already given her veritaserum and know she can't lie, would you consider letting me complete the questioning?"

Trottle raised a skeptical eyebrow at Harry, looking unconvinced.

"Please sir," Harry said. "I think I can get the information we need out of her."

Trottle waved his hand in response, giving Harry the all clear to continue. Harry looked back at Hermione who was still trembling on the ground. He pointed a wand in her direction, conjuring up a chair.

"Can we get this removed, please?" he called out loudly, indicating the chain still around his friend's wrists. As he helped Hermione into the chair a guard came near and removed the cuff. Hermione rubbed her wrists and smiled at Harry appreciatively.

"It'll be okay," he whispered in her ear. She nodded in response, finally ready to trust him. She had no other options.

"Hermione," Harry said loudly so the whole room could hear him. "Is Rose Weasley your child?"

"Yes," Hermione replied strongly.

"Are you in cahoots with Shraxen and Willigsbee?"

"No," Hermione replied, louder this time.

"Did I ask you to obliviate Ron Weasley so that he might be harmed?"

"No."

"Would it be dangerous to reveal any more at this time?"

"Yes."

"Would it, in fact, put into danger those that you are trying so desperately to protect?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a sob, closing her eyes as she spoke and placing fingers to her forehead. Harry turned to look at her as he asked his next question.

"Hermione, would you ever do a thing to harm any member of the Weasley family?"

Hermione looked back at him, tears slowly falling down her face, and said passionately, "No."

Harry nodded at her and gave a terse smile, trying to convey to her that this was the end, she no longer needed to carry this alone. Turning slowly back to the Wizengamot, he addressed them once more.

"Mr. Trottle, obviously it would be dangerous to continue questioning at this time, the veritaserum doesn't lie. Seeing as how this deals with the Shraxen and Willigsbee case, a case I am currently heading, and taking into account my relationship with the accused, I ask you to release her to my care until further note."

Trottle paused with his gavel in the air, trying to consider the gravity of the situation. Finally, he let the gavel drop, nodding at Harry to take his friend away.

"I'll want a full update in a few days' time, Potter," he said as he gathered his things and released the rest of the Wizengamot. "Don't forget."

Harry watched as the officials left and the spectators bustled out the exits. He walked over to Hermione and looped one arm through hers, helping her stand.

"What now?" she asked, worried.

"We go home to the burrow," he said tersely. "We have a lot to discuss."


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione sat at the head of the long kitchen table in the burrow. She tapped her fingers against her water glass, feeling the weight of twelve pairs of eyes on her. On the floor next to her, Rose and Victoire played nicely. Hermione had smothered her child with affection upon returning, but it was clear now the only action the Weasley family would allow of her was to talk. They wanted answers.

Hermione gazed down the room. Ron sat directly across from her at the other end of the large table. Lavender was to his right, looking annoyed. Ginny sat to Ron's left, sporadically patting her brother on the shoulder to calm him. Next to Ginny was Harry, who looked like he was trying to avoid Ron's gaze all together. Ron was glaring at Harry like he might kill him.

The rest of the seats were filled: Arthur and Molly, Bill and Fleur, George and Angelina, Percy and Audrey. No Weasley had stayed home from this show. Except, of course, for Charlie.

Just then, the front door banged open and Charlie Weasley walked in.

"What the bloody hell is going in?" he asked, exasperated. He walked to the table and took the last empty seat, looking disheveled and travel worn, as if he had left whatever he was doing in a rush. "I got Mum's owl. We've got a new niece?"

All eyes flew back to Hermione, waiting for her to confirm or deny. Which was preposterous. They all heard the confession, Hermione wouldn't have been able to lie under veritaserum. And they had all seen Rose pass the Weasley wards. Obviously, there was no use denying it any longer. All she could do was share as little as possible and try to protect what information she could.

"Yes," Hermione said. "This is my daughter, and she is a Weasley."

Charlie looked gobsmacked, peering down at the small redhead playing on the floor.

"Blimey, who's the dad?"

All the sets of eyes, thirteen now, turned back to Hermione once more. And how was she supposed to answer this? It's not like any of it made sense. Whatever name she said, someone would be in trouble. Hermione decided the best thing for it was to be as honest as she could.

"I understand this has all been very confusing." Hermione paused as Lavender gave a snort. "And I know you all want to know what's going on. But I can't tell you. You heard me say that under the veritaserum. Every word I utter places more and more danger on the situation."

Hermione nodded, satisfied. That should be the end of it, shouldn't it? They should all be able to trust her. Couldn't they see what this was doing to her?

"That is not good enough."

All eyes flew to Ron at his declaration. Ron sat there, still glaring at Harry, then turned his attention to Hermione. He looked thoroughly pissed off.

"Now, I feel like I've been pretty levelheaded throughout this whole ordeal," Ron said, stabbing the table with his finger. Ginny said a sarcastic, "Right," but was silenced with a look from Ron, who continued.

"Everyone here wants you to answer to them Hermione. A lot of people in this room are hurt and frustrated by what's gone on," Ron said, standing slowly and leaning forward as he spoke.

"But I want you to understand the hurt and frustration you have caused me. Me," Ron said, slamming his fist against his chest. "You have done this to me, and you have come back here with a child and you won't tell us who's it is, and now I find out all of this has happened because my best mate," Ron said, indicating Harry, "was in on it. And so before we go any farther, before anyone else gets a word in, I expect an explanation out of you. You owe me an explanation."

He said the last bit quietly, but with plenty of force. Hermione felt the air pulled out of her as Ron's eyes drilled into her, pinning her to her seat. She could feel the tears welling up, looking at the pain and anger written on Ron's face.

"I didn't want to be with you, Ron," Hermione said finally, looking straight in his eyes.

"Fine," he said, slowly. "That bit seems a bit obvious. It wasn't a coincidence Riddle chose that image of you and Harry to taunt me with. I've always known I had no chance with you, I don't need convincing of it."

Hermione breathed heavily, her gaze still locked with Ron's. She wanted to scream, to tell him to never say such awful things again. How could he think it? Ron was good enough, he was better than anyone.

"I couldn't stand the sight of you any longer," Hermione said, her voice cold and her stare blank. "Is that enough of an explanation for you?"

Hermione continued to stare at Ron, silently begging him to stop looking at her like that. He looked almost…defeated. Hermione had crushed him. But, of course, that had been the plan all along.

"How do you know about Prophecy 472?"

Hermione turned to Harry at his sudden question, gaping at him, willing him to let it go.

"It's not your turn for questions, Potter," Ron said menacingly.

"Oh come off it," Harry said in frustration. "I didn't do a thing to you."

Hermione's mind was in a whirl. How to explain her knowledge of the prophecy? It was a prophecy she would instantly forget if she could, yet it had become the driving force in her life.

"I…I read about it."

"Nope," Harry replied. "Never been reported. In fact, there are precisely three people on this planet who know the full contents of it."

The rest of the family watched Harry closely now, clearly intrigued.

"What's it about Harry?" Ginny asked urgently. "Please?"

Harry surveyed the room, obviously weighing whether or not he should say more. Hermione couldn't believe he would even consider it.

"Harry, don't," she begged. "The more people who know, the more power it has. You know how it works."

"Yes, I do know how it works," Harry said angrily. "I want to know how you know how it works."

Hermione couldn't believe this was happening. She'd spent three years protecting something, and in just three days Harry was ready to give it up. She was livid, so angry with him. He had been the one to start all of this, even if he didn't know it, and now he was causing more problems for her.

"Harry," Ron said, the one word an insistent plea.

"Harry," Hermione echoed, her voice just as forceful as Ron's.

Harry looked between his two friends, not sure which to let down. In the end, he knew they needed all the information possible to work this thing out, and so he took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Prophecy 472 was taken from the department of mysteries before it was destroyed in 1996. It didn't take long for the Ministry to discover it was the work of death eaters, and they assumed the prophecy had made its way into the hands of Riddle. After the department was destroyed, the Ministry became intent on discovering the contents of that one prophecy, as for all intents and purposes, it was the last one known on Earth. Fortunately, they had a registry on hand and were able to find the original source of the prediction…"

"Who was it?" Lavender asked, leaning in as if listening to a ghost story.

"Trelawney. Of course, her predictions are shaky at best, but we know from experience she's been dead on before." Harry paused to grimace. "They were able to put her into a trance and gather the lost information."

"What did it say?" Ginny urged. Ron's face was tense, his brow low over his eyes, watching Harry.

"It spoke of a trio," Harry said, scanning the various faces watching him. "A trio whose combined magical power would be so great, no dark magic could ever defeat it."

"You, Ron and Hermione then?" Percy asked, his quick mind trying to figure it all out. Harry shook his head.

"No. The Ministry did think at first it was a trio of three adults, but the more the prophecy was explored they realized it was speaking about…a family. The prophecy talked about the lasting effects, the offspring. This family would be the start of generations of powerful witches and wizards, creating a line of good magic that would be nearly unstoppable."

"So…the trio?" Bill asked.

"Man, woman and child," Harry answered.


	14. Chapter 14

The room was silent, everyone taking in the knowledge Harry had just shared. More than one set of eyes turned to look at Rose on the floor, and Hermione instinctively took two steps to her right, placing herself in front of her child. Her entire body was trembling.

Molly got up from the table to nervously start pouring glasses of pumpkin juice. She was clearly uneasy with the way this story was going. Fleur got up to help as the rest of the group struggled to make sense of everything.

"Harry, you said three people knew the full contents," Arthur said, finally breaking the silence. "You, and who else?"

"Jefferson Shraxen and Damius Willigsbee."

There were several gasps amongst the group, and Molly quickly passed out glasses, needing something to do with her hands. Harry stood to finish his story.

"They're out to stop this family from ever being formed, to finish one of Riddle's last plots. There was a time the Ministry thought the prophecy might pertain to me, and my family," Harry said, reaching for Ginny's hand. "But then, a year ago…"

"They went after Ron," Ginny finished. She looked from Harry to Ron, whose face was a dark mask.

"Please, please can we stop now?" Hermione begged quietly. There were tear marks on her face and she still stood firmly in front of Rose. No one paid her any attention.

"We need to get the Order in on this, get some protection!" Charlie said loudly.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "The more people who hear this, the worse it will get. It's like we're compelling the prophecy to be true, every time we retell it."

"Yes, so we should all just stop talking!" Hermione shouted. "Right now!"

"I agree with Hermione," Molly said, fear on her face. Everyone was quiet for a moment, each afraid to speak. Molly took several nervous gulps from her pumpkin juice glass.

"This doesn't make any sense," Lavender said finally, looking perturbed. "Ron doesn't even have a family!"

"Yet," Harry answered. "Ron doesn't have a family, yet."

Lavender thought on this, mulling over the information she had heard and considering the possibilities. Ron didn't have a family, yet. But one day he would. He'd have a baby and a wife and…Suddenly, she began clapping.

"Oh, Won-Won, I knew you would propose soon!" She threw her arms around Ron and began hopping up and down. Ron looked bewildered, confused as to how they had gotten to that point. Ginny rolled her eyes with an exclaim of "Oh honestly," as Hermione bent down to scoop up Rose and slowly began moving backward.

"Lavender, what are you so excited about?" Ginny asked with a sigh. "Even if this prophecy were talking about you and Ron, it would now mean you were in mortal peril."

"Yes, but Won-Won would protect me," she replied, beaming up at Ron and clinging to his arm. "Ron would never let anything happen to the woman he loves, he would die first."

Hermione gave a squeak and the group turned sharply to look at her, realizing now Hermione had been slowly retreating the entire time. She was almost to the back door.

"Right," Hermione said. "S-so like Harry told us, Ron doesn't have a family yet. And prophecies only work if you let them. It-it's just like with Harry and Voldemort…If either had walked away, it would have meant nothing. I think we should all just walk away now."

Hermione had continued to move throughout her speech and her back was now pressed against the door. She reached behind her, still holding Rose, searching for the doorknob. She needed to escape, immediately. She would run if she had to.

"Wait," Ron said suddenly. He blinked several times as if just waking up. He stared evenly at Hermione. "We still don't know how you had knowledge of any of this."

Hermione let out a frustrated growl, suddenly very fed up.

"Does it matter, Ronald? Honestly, do you have to be hit over the head with it?" Hermione took four long steps toward him, punctuating her words with one arm, the other holding Rose tightly to her chest. "Something bad is happening Ronald! And you want to sit down for a chat?"

Ron fumed, raising himself up so that he looked several inches taller. He loomed over Hermione, invisible smoke coming out of his ears. He had had enough.

"Should we separate them?" Ginny whispered.

"No," Harry whispered back. "This is good. This they know how to do."

"Well if I'm so thick," Ron yelled. "Why don't you just leave? See if I care! No one's stopping you!"

"I am leaving, and I am never coming back!"

The two stood there for a moment, each red in the face, inches apart. Finally, a look settled over Hermione's face, almost as if she were coming to her senses.

"You leave first," she said forcefully.

"Bloody likely," Ron snorted. "This is my house. You leave!"

Hermione reeled up, making herself as big as possible, spurred on my Ron's angry words.

"I'm warning you Ronald! You leave right this instant. Take your fiancé," Hermione put particular emphasis on the word, like she were spitting it out, "and go! You two need to get started making some great, powerful wizarding family! Just go!"

Hermione nearly shrieked the last syllable. Something in the way she said it made Ron pause and contemplate her now, as if seeing her for the first time in years.

"Fine," he said quietly. With that, he walked toward Lavender, grabbed her by the hand, and turned with a pop. The two apparated away.

Hermione sat stunned for a moment, as if surprised that he had finally, for once in his life, listened to her.

"Well this has been a lot of fun Hermione," George said from his seat at the table. "Let's make sure to do it more often."

Hermione gaped back at the Weasley's, some of them looking concerned and some looking almost…disappointed in her. There was nothing she could say to get herself out of this mess. And that was fine, her reputation wasn't the thing at stake here. She turned quickly, returning once more to the backdoor. Her hand fumbled with the knob, finding it magically locked. She turned briskly, about to demand someone unlock the door. Internally, she was praying helplessly for some sort of refuge, anything that could help her.

Then, the front door to the burrow kitchen swung open, a gust of wind flying through the house. There, in the open entryway, stood Albus Dumbledore.


End file.
